Resurrection
by Dusty Forgotten
Summary: So, Nelacar may have killed the DragonBorn. She may have neglected to mention that she never stays dead for long.


Resurrection

"Alright, Nelacar," the Khajiit called as she strolled into the inn, "I have the Star."

The high elf flicked flicked away the spell he had been charging and stood from his chair, taking the broken artifact as she shut the door. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to make it back alive." He set it down gingerly on the counter.

"You grossly underestimate me." she cooed, crossing her arms and gazing expectantly. "How's it look?"

"It's not unsalvageable, but..."

"Malyn's eating through the Star for energy; yeah, I know. How do we fix it?"

He was taken aback. "How did you know?"

"I'm good with magick. Learn what makes a school tick, and you can do just about anything within it."

"I didn't figure you for a sensitive..." he mentioned, sweeping his eyes over her. You could usually pick a sensitive; they were the mages that spent more time writing in their encrypted logbooks about necromantic experiments than spellcasting. Alira, on the other hand, was a bounty-hunter, as skilled with a bow as she was with the Thu'um- and she was Archmage in her spare time. Nelacar couldn't decide whether to loathe or lust over her. He settled for a healthy respect.

"Ah, yes. He's severed it from Azura, so it exists on a separate plane of Oblivion, as far as I can tell."

"Is there any way to break the barriers? If we expose him, Azura should just eat him up."

"Not from our side, no. He's worked it into a funnel- souls get in, not out. His own soul is energy for the barriers, as well."

"So we're up against a paradox?"

"Precisely..."

It had been far too long since he could discuss his work without having to explain every step. She had an understanding of magick that surpassed most master wizards, and the raw talent to practice it. Half-Breton, she said, which was why she was unreasonably short.

"We can't starve him, because he's already cannibalizing the Star. What if we fed him something he can't stomach? Like an animal soul?"

"In a black soul gem?"

"It's happened before. I once trapped a bandit in a lesser soul gem."

"Hm..." Nelacar considered it, running his fingers along the lines of the disintegrating Star. "Not an animal. Besides, it's too difficult to duplicate those conditions. No, a human soul, with enough willpower and talent to destroy him..." The high elf glanced at her experimentally.

The black stripe of her eyebrow quirked up on her pale face. "Me."

"A partial soul trap!" Nelacar defended. She hadn't discarded the idea yet, thankfully. "I'll cast the spell, then well..."

"Kill me?" the Dragonborn supplied.

"Sort of. Barely. You'll be on the edge of death just long enough to kill Malyn Veran, then I'll use a healing spell to bring you back."

She remained silent for a while, a contemplative expression in her white eyes with their slitted pupils. "How good are you with Restoration?"

"Ah... Decent?"

She sighed in return. "It's a very balance school of magick." she mumbled and stepped behind the counter. "Strangulation is probably best. Not very damaging to the body, better control over exactly how dead I am." She pulled on a pair of gloves with metal-capped fingertips. "Only problem is that it takes a lot of tenacity to keep holding on once the face goes blue. Can you handle it, or should I get someone else?"

"No, I can... I can do it."

She nodded. "Alright. Let's do this."

"You should probably sit down."

She glanced behind her at the bed, sat, removed her wide leather choker, then layed down with hands folded neatly in her lap. "Don't crush my windpipe, and don't let go until Veran's dead."

Nelacar set the broken Star on her belly and sparked Soul Trap in his right hand, straddling her. "Try not to die in the Star, or you may not come back. I can't afford another accident, you know."

She released her breath and closed her eyes as he cast the spell; a familiar purple glow wound around her features. The mage wrapped his hands around the column of her throat and squeezed tightly. She struggled less than he expected (which was good; he wasn't sure how he would remain resolute if he saw fear from the archmage), just dug her claws into the fur sheets and let her eyes loll back in her head until she passed out. He held as the violet life seeped out of her and into the daedric gem, and kept holding.

Malyn Veran had a hunger in her eyes, and Alira didn't like it. It was darker than the lust she had found in her own eyes, and animals were most dangerous hungry. That's all he was, now. An animal.

"Ah," he said, "my apprentices sent me another. Good. I was getting... Hungry."

Flames flickered in his hand as she reached for her sword. "Wait. You're not...!"

This would be much easier if she didn't have dremoran fireballs scorching her back.

Nelacar did let go. About fifty seconds ago. He knew enough about Restoration to tell the difference between the type of dead someone could awaken from with a little healing and mouth-to-mouth (usually when the soul was still in the body and functions had stopped at most ten seconds ago) and the kind of dead only Conjuration could raise.

Alira was the latter. The spell hadn't done a damn thing- and the chest compressions and resuscitation weren't helping either. She'd been dead for nearly two minutes now. With the realization that she wasn't resurrecting until he decided to try out necromancy, Nelacar suddenly became very aware that he was straddling a corpse with red handprints around her neck, and a filled black soul gem beside them.

The Star was currently the magickal equivalent of vibrating. He assumed it was Alira, growing impatient for revival that he couldn't manage. It had reshaped purely through Azura's power: meaning it was connected to her realm again, and, by association, Alira was as well. Guilty, he set it down on the nightstand and removed himself from the now-cadaver.

The Black Star made a cracking sound, which he turned to inspect. The buzzing energies had died down to leave it empty. So, Azura had overtaken the DragonBorn. Great. _Just great_. One last hope of planetary survival, and he just killed her. _Great._

As far as accidents went, this was a worst-case scenario. Not to go into that now he had to dispose of a body, and somehow explain_ why-_

"Why in Kynareth's name does Azura have dremora!?"

Nelacar nearly dropped the Star. "Y-you're alive!"

"I asked a question." she reminded, pulling off the gloves, "dremora are Dagon's thing. Why are they in Azura's artifact?"

The elf blinked. "I, ah..." A patch of fur on her cheek was singed. "You'd have to ask her."

"I doubt she's speaking to me anymore. How's it look?"

"Eh... Burned."

She blinked her white eyes and felt where he stared. A dim, soothing light manifested under her hand, and when she removed it, the fur was perfect again. "I was talking about the Star."

"Oh, ah... Malyn's gone, and... It looks sealed off from Azura. It should be on it's own plane of Oblivion now."

"Awesome." she said, taking the Black Star, holding it up to the candlelight, and depositing it in her satchel. "I don't want dremora tearing up the souls before I can use them. ...What are you staring at?"

He blinked a few times, straightening, then shrinking. "You were dead."

"Yeah, that was the plan. Thanks for bringing me back, by the way."

"But I didn't! You were dead. Really dead. Too dead for me to do anything."

"It's a miracle!" she stated with more than a hint of sarcasm as she winked over her shoulder. "Thanks again Nelacar, I owe you one!"

She disappeared. Yes, he decided, he had underestimated her.

That, and the respect was morphing into lust again.


End file.
